


Never Mine to Own

by summerofspock



Series: Devil Like Me [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sex in the Bentley (Good Omens), World War II, aka my weakness, but very repressed feelings, like a lot of it, love me dont leave me crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Aziraphale had always been terrible at lying to everyone else, but he seemed to excel at lying to himself.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Devil Like Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723525
Comments: 59
Kudos: 417
Collections: Top Crowley Library





	Never Mine to Own

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song Devil Like Me by Rainbow Kitten Surprise which you should...uh...listen to if you want to have some emotions
> 
> a continuation of a universe contained in [Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625891/chapters/51590968) and [12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625891/chapters/51599572) of havent you ever fallen down at christmas and continued in [a beautiful mess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741028) but stands alone

Aziraphale’s hand tingled where Crowley had touched him. The barest brush of fingers over the handle of the bag.

“Lift home?” Crowley said over his shoulder as he glided past. Casual, no expectations, no undertones.

Aziraphale, with a clutching heart, thought back to their last conversation.

_You only ever use me._

Aziraphale realized what a lie that had been. He’d always been terrible at lying to everyone else but he seemed to excel at lying to himself.

He pictured Crowley on the Ark, laughing and needling him in an attempt to keep Aziraphale’s spirits up. The Bastille, a rescue, and a long lunch. And all those kisses through the years, Crowley desperate, hungry, even violent, but always full of affection. 

How had Aziraphale been such a fool?

He’d told himself the discomfort he felt whenever he and Crowley came together was guilt, shame over needing this earthly pleasure. But Aziraphale realized now that it hadn’t been discomfort at all. _I need you. Anything as long as it's you._ That awful feeling had been love, a desperate love, sure as anything. Sure as Crowley loved him too.

Crowley was standing on the edge of the rubble looking at him expectantly, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers. He looked like a study in nonchalance while Aziraphale was a statue carved from debris.

“Coming?” Crowley asked again, one eyebrow arched over his sunglasses. Aziraphale managed to stumble over the stones and follow him down the street to a car shining like gasoline in the moonlight, undisturbed by the bomb that had just been dropped not a block away.

Crowley opened the passenger door for him and waited. Always waiting.

Aziraphale slipped inside, staring through the windshield and clutching the bag to his chest like it might provide some relief, keep his heart from spilling out.

The driver’s side door clicked open and then Crowley was beside him slipping off his hat, still waiting. “So are you still at the bookshop or -”

Aziraphale closed the space between them and kissed Crowley, bag of books separating their chests and that distance was too far so Aziraphale pushed the bag to the floor and fisted his hands in Crowley’s lapels to pull him closer. It was uncomfortable and awkward but Aziraphale’s body felt as lit up as that church, heart just as decimated.

How had he not known? How had he sent Crowley away again and again?

Now that Aziraphale understood, he realized how awful an idea it was to continue this thing. Loving a demon seemed far too great a risk. More of a betrayal than even enjoying the pleasures of their corporations.

But tonight, one night, the first and only night since they’d known each other, Aziraphale wanted to make love to Crowley. Worship him the way he deserved.

With a hand on Aziraphale’s wrist, Crowley pulled away. “You don’t have to do this. I didn’t come here tonight for this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said and the need clawing at his throat had him fumbling with Crowley’s buttons. “But I want it. I want you.”

Crowley made a noise high in his throat that was nearly Aziraphale’s undoing. It was disbelief mingled with need and it made Aziraphale want to lay Crowley out and kiss every inch of him. Stay here in this quiet liminal space and love each other until the end of the world. 

But all they had was now and Aziraphale was going to make the most of it.

Aziraphale shifted closer, taking off Crowley’s glasses and putting his hand on the crease of Crowley’s thigh, feeling the hardness that was already there. For him. The thrill it sent through him had him reeling. How had he ever thought this feeling was disgust? It was elation and desire and love. So much love.

Crowley crashed their mouths together, painful and full of teeth, and nothing like what Aziraphale wanted. But this was his own fault. What had he taught Crowley? What had they learned except hunger and darkness and making this as quick and meaningless as possible?

He reached up to hold Crowley’s face in his hands, to stay him as he pulled back slightly, a light brush of lips, a delicate press of his tongue. It broke his heart when Crowley melted against him, body going loose like he’d never felt such relief in his entire existence. 

Aziraphale tugged on Crowley’s jacket. “Can I take this off?”

“Anything, yes. Please,” Crowley said, still trying to kiss him, the slow moment of affection taking on a desperate edge.

Aziraphale climbed into the backseat and pulled on Crowley’s hand until he joined him, allowing himself to pressed down into the leather seat and kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Your tie?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley groaned when it slipped through Aziraphale’s fingers and he brushed his knuckles over his exposed throat. Their feet knocked at the door as the car grew hot around them. 

“Your shirt?” Aziraphale asked, continuing his path down Crowley’s body, fingers slipping buttons free, revealing Crowley’s white vest that hid the delicious patch of hair Aziraphale remembered so vividly. He tugged the button-down out of Crowley’s trousers and unhooked his braces, letting them fall to the sides of Crowley’s arms. Crowley was watching him, one hand hovering by Aziraphale’s hip, waiting. A question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how lovely you are,” Aziraphale breathed into the dip of Crowley’s collarbone, hand coming to rest between them on the zip of Crowley’s trousers. _I look at you and all I can see is shadows. They remind me of the light._

Crowley’s hips bucked up into his hand. In these close quarters, every part of their bodies were aligned. 

“Fuck, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, canting his hips up in search of more friction. “Please, I want to see you.”

Aziraphale’s throat closed over and he sat up as much as he could, hand cupping Crowley’s jaw, running his thumb over the thin line of his mouth. Soft and pliant. Crowley made that noise, like Aziraphale was breaking him.

Aziraphale struggled out of his long coat, distracted by the feeling of Crowley, hard between his legs. Reaching out to run his hands over the swell of Aziraphale’s belly, Crowley fumbled with the soft buttons of his waistcoat, hands shaking so much that Aziraphale took them between his own, kissed the pads of his fingers.

Crowley screwed his eyes shut and Aziraphale watched as his chest heaved. Finally, those yellow eyes opened and he said, broken, broken, breaking, “Aziraphale, what’s happening?”

 _I’ve ruined everything and I just want to love you for this one moment_.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and his trousers found their way to the floor of the car along with his coat. As if he couldn’t help himself, Crowley’s hands sank into the flesh of his bare backside where it was pressed against his raised knees and guided Aziraphale against him, rocking their hips together. 

Aziraphale scrambled to undo his waistcoat, his shirt. He suddenly needed Crowley’s hands on him more than he needed air. Rucking up his undershirt, he placed Crowley’s hands on the skin of his stomach and leaned forward to kiss him as those slim fingers moved over his hips, his chest, everywhere all at once.

Their tongues slid together and it was good, so good, but not enough.

“I want you inside me,” Aziraphale said, reaching between them to pull Crowley out of his trousers where he found him hot and leaking. All for Aziraphale. Always for Aziraphale.

Crowley’s fingers dug into Aziraphale’s hip so tightly that it hurt, a bruise without the bloom. 

Reaching under him with slick fingers, Crowley took his time opening him slowly, the awkward angle in the tight quarters forcing Aziraphale to lean back against Crowley’s knees. When Crowley fisted his cock in time with the movement of his fingers, Aziraphale cried out because it was too much. How had Crowley done touched him for all these years with this much love inside him? Aziraphale could barely stand it.

Shaking, Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s hands away and grabbed hold of him, lining up so he could sink down, inch by painful inch as he gasped and shuddered and his cock flagged. Crowley couldn’t stop touching him, hands on his hips, thighs, his cheek.

“Oh, angel, fuck, you feel so good,” he said, words flooding from his mouth and washing over Aziraphale. “Perfect, so perfect. I forgot how good - fuck.”

Once Aziraphale began to move, his words grew desperate, Aziraphale floating in them, drowning in them.

_I missed this. You. Fuck. Perfect. So tight. I pictured you. I never thought - beautiful. Angel. So...so…_

Not content with their position, Crowley lunged up, arms coming around Aziraphale’s back to fist in his shirt as he curved his spine. “You can’t look like that and not kiss me,” he said between breathless sounds of pleasure and dirty words.

Aziraphale fisted his hands in Crowley’s slicked back hair and brought their mouths together, messy as they both lost any rhythm, caught up as they were in the push pull of their bodies that was steadily tearing them apart.

Aziraphale’s cock had grown hard once more, pressed between their stomachs, precome smeared over their undershirts as it bobbed with every movement of his hips. Crowley thrust up into him, trying to match his rhythm but failing.

Pushing on Aziraphale’s chest, Crowley pulled back. “Can I have you on your back?”

Not able to deny him anything, not in this haze of want and love, Aziraphale let him pull out and rearrange them so his back was against the leather seat, absorbing the impression of heat left by Crowley’s body. 

The backseat of the car suddenly felt bigger, more comfortable and Aziraphale didn't know if it was his doing or Crowley's. He didn't right care.

Crowley pushed his trousers further down and pressed Aziraphale’s knees back until he wrapped him around Crowley’s hips, socked shins rubbing against each other as he hooked his ankles together. 

“Alright?” Crowley asked, eyes searching his face. There was so much tenderness writ there that Aziraphale couldn’t even answer, only able to nod and tug Crowley closer.

Crowley slicked himself and pushed back inside. There it was. The rhythm of their bodies they knew so well. The way Crowley could thrust his hips just right, light up Aziraphale from the inside, the drag his cock slow and perfect. Even at an awkward angle, even in a too hot car, Aziraphale felt himself coming apart.

“Can you come like this?” Crowley grated out between thrusts. “Just from me fucking you?”

Aziraphale whimpered and his back arched. Crowley gripped his thigh and said, “I know you can. You will.”

Aziraphale thought he might sob with the way his nerve endings were singing.

“Come for me, angel.”

And then Aziraphale did, shadows and lights flickering behind his eyelids so quick he felt dizzy as his body cracked with pleasure.

Crowley fucked him through it, breath growing uneven until he groaned and Aziraphale felt him spill inside him.

They came apart briefly before falling back together, a tangle of limbs with a mess between them.

The grief and fear Aziraphale had felt before he started this - when he was still standing on shaking knees with a book clutched in his hand - started to claw its way back into the light and settle on his chest.

“What was that?” Crowley asked and he was still breathing hard, a tentative hand on Aziraphale’s chest like he thought - hoped - they could hold each other. “It was...different.”

Aziraphale ran a hand down Crowley’s back, a last moment of affection before he pulled away, tried to sit up. “Something we both needed I think.”

The hopeful light in Crowley’s eyes disappeared. Aziraphale hated it. But what was he supposed to do? 

“Right,” Crowley said, untangling them and putting as much distance between them as he could in the cramped backseat of the car.

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, an _I love you_ , teetering behind it and only stayed by Aziraphale’s pathetic fear.

“No need,” Crowley said coldly and Aziraphale knew he was about to strike. He also knew he deserved it. “Pretty good fuck though. One of our better ones.”

His callous tone didn’t hurt the way Aziraphale thought it would because Aziraphale knew exactly where it was coming from. He felt it in his own hurt. A shame, cold and breaking, always breaking.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and replaced his clothes. He wouldn’t rise to the bait. He was done with this awful fighting. 

"Glad you think so," he said evenly, straightening his bow tie. "I'll see you when I see you?"

He pushed open the door and the cool air of the night cut through him. He'd almost closed the door behind him when, in a voice so quiet that Aziraphale barely heard him, Crowley said, "Mind how you go."

Aziraphale shut the door.

**Author's Note:**

> at some point (probably after the new year) i'll collect this stuff into a series or single fic but idk where the advent prompts are taking me
> 
> as always, thanks for reading


End file.
